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21 of 22 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
Simple, mesmerizing beauty., November 8, 2007
Beirut is Zach Condon, a 21-yearold prodigy from New Mexico who has never been to the Lebanese capital, nor even the Balkans, the region whose gipsy folk sound coloured his remarkable debut album, Gulag Orkestar.
On the latter Condon's whimsically named band worked up their rhythmic clangour with the help of borrowings from Balkan gipsy brass. I don't mean Slavic street theatre like Gogol Bordello, but the more subtle approach of bands such Kocani Orkestar, from Macedonia.
On the CD -- recorded at his parents' house in New Mexico -- Zach Condon sounded like a pretentious trust-fund boy gatecrashing an Emir Kusturica film set, but there was no doubting his talent. By the end of the year, Beirut had become one of the most compelling bands around.
Having rambled through lo-fi electronica, doo-wop and Balkan folk music, Zach now attempts to conjure a feel of France in an album inspired by an old photo of hot air balloonists setting off from the Eiffel Tower.
The horns and fiddles remain but now Beirut seem fuelled by vin rouge and absinthe as Condon's muse moves on to France.
The gusto with which he tackles his theme is infectious, and it is hard to be cynical when the clichés come packaged so elegantly.
Queasy accordions, fruity brass and rustic percussion do the job nicely, but this is an album of wispy moods and atmospheres rather than a collection of songs you could really take to your heart.
Wary of accusations of being a mere pastiche merchant, this time France being the theme -- at least he has lived in Paris -- this means waltzing accordions and horns, plucked strings and Condon's tremulous voice , a dramatic, stirring sound that is miles away from anything else coming out of the North American indie scene.
Because a piano accompanies the ballad "Un Dernier Verre" and because Condon has expressed admiration for Jacques Brel, some American fans think "The Flying Club Cup" a portrait of France or, more dimly, "Europe".
This is a misapprehension.
Condon picks up traditional elements and remakes them.
If you cram an accordion, guitar, violin, double bass, drums and three pieces of brass into a narrow stairwell, as Zach Condon does in the video for "Nantes", the term "layered" is inadequate to describe the consequent sound.
The tense piano loops of "In The Mausoleum" and fluttering flutes of the title track stand out on an album that entirely succeeds in its goal of whisking the listener to an enticing new places.
My highlights : "Nantes", "In The Mausoleum", "The Flying Club Cup" and "Le Banlieu".
L' Orient Est Rouge
Super Taranta
Release the Stars
Gulag Orkestar
Putumayo Presents: Paris
French Cafe
Disko Partizani
Putumayo Presents: Gypsy Groove
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26 of 35 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
What melody will see him in my arms again?, October 8, 2007
Beirut have always been all about Europe. Ever since Zach Condon started mingling electronica and indie-rock with traditional East-European music, his little band has been redolent of the old world.
And though "The Flying Club Cup" has a more modern flavour to some of its songs, the feeling of wistful, melancholy nostalgia still hangs heavily over these exquisitely orchestrated pop tunes. Think early twentieth-century France, as seen through sepia photographs and a band's sad tunes.
It opens with a haunting chorus of wailing horns, before switching to the smooth, swaying melody of "Nantes." Condon sings mournfully, "Well it's been a long time/long time now/since I've seen you smile/and I'll gamble away my fright... and in a year, a year or so/this will slip into the sea..."
It's much the same throughout the remaining songs, which tend to be bittersweet in tone, with a backdrop of horns and stately pop rhythms. Mellow dance tunes, Eastern European marches, mournful accordion-piano ballads, and pretty folky tunes. Not to mention, of course, combinations of all of the above.
In the second half, we're even graced with some upbeat songs -- the twittering violin and swirling melody of "In The Mausoleum." And the sprightliest music on the album is "Un Dernier Verre (Pour La Route)," a peppy pop tune that sounds like something Snoopy would dance to as the World War I flying ace.
If I were to compare Condon and Beirut to any other artist, it would probably be Sufjan Stevens -- polished, multilayered music with rich vocals. But the music of "The Flying Club Cup" is all nostalgia, bittersweet and weariness, mingled with a rich, over-the-top quality. It's so much BIGGER than Beirut's past work -- in sound, in scope, in feeling.
Not to mention that the sound here is a bit less Balkan -- think electro-indie mingled with vintage pop melodies, then filtered through an old French radio. Lots of mellow accordion, mingled brass, rattling drums and tambourine, an acoustic guitar, some twittery fiddle melodies and a nimble, energetic piano. Here are there, a gentle layer of keyboard is laid over it all.
Condon's voice is the clincher -- this guy is not only a great musician, but he has a smooth, rich voice that slides through the music like a satin ribbon. And his songs are evocative and stirring ("A plague on the workhouse!"), with plenty of feeling ("what melody will lead my lover from his bed?/What melody will see him in my arms again?").
Beirut's second album is a stunning artistic triumph, draped in classic melodies, exquisite songwriting and sweeping instrumentation. "The Flying Club Cup" flies on its own.
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5 of 6 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Homesick, fully grown children, March 21, 2008
This is their second LP release, and by far their best release to date.
Critics are quick to say Beirut's sound is Euro-stylized by influences like Jacques Brel and François Hardy. They're eager to compare the band's frontman, Zach Condron, to Scott Walker. It won't be long before they liken Beirut to the Tindersticks had Stuart Staples turned queer.
But "The Flying Club Cup" proved Zach Condon has developed a musical style beyond compare.
Whereas "Gulag Orkestar" showed that the self-ordained small time American band could meld Macedonian folk sounds with romantic classical European music stylings and bourgeoise bohemian sophistication, "The Flying Club Cup" uses this melded sound as the departure point toward a far more striking occurrence: style defined without subculture.
Timeless, ageless, genderless, cultureless, songs like "Cliquot" and "The Penalty" make "The Flying Club Cup" an album that could have come out of almost any place in the world at any point in history.
But it's not just universal in those senses. Perhaps because of frontman Zach Condon's sophisticated, mature air and voice, it was refreshing and unexpected to hear him sing such honest lyrics about love. It was, well, sweet. Better yet, it is why I think "The Flying Club Cup" is nothing short of genius.
In sum, "The Flying Club Cup": Beirut's balkan-gypsy-folk-french-euro-pop music style renowned in their first LP release, made even better with more mature lyrics for the young at heart.
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